


Olive & Strawberries

by DanaiaCake



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Canon Compliant, Explicit Language, HQ Rarepair, Happens during the Spring Tournament, Jealous Shirabu, Jealousy, KageRabu, Kageyama is a cinnamon roll, M/M, Multi, Pining, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rejection, Shirabu is an Insecure Baby, Shiratorizawa, Shiratorizawa Boys, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Unrequited Crush, Ushijima is oblivious, You Should Have Come to Shiratorizawa, iwaoi - Freeform, ushioi - Freeform, ushishira
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 13:41:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8491969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanaiaCake/pseuds/DanaiaCake
Summary: In which Shirabu falls in love hard and never really recovers. But if he's given a choice, he'd do it all over again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic ever! :D
> 
> I am sorry if it sucked and if the pairing of Kageyama and Shirabu doesn't make sense to you. I just saw the spark after episode 4 of Season 3, when the two of them glared at each other on opposite sides of the net. Work is unbeta-ed so if you find any mistakes, please forgive me? :)
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shirabu admits his feelings and meets the freak duo for the first time.

He slings his backpack over his right shoulder then places his pink and white duffel bag over the left and springs towards the library. His strides are quick and wide as he goes through the hallway and out to school ground where the warm afternoon breeze greets his already flushed skin.

Everything is doused in orange light from the setting sun and he makes a quick glance at his watch just to confirm the information he has been avoiding because...

For the third time that week, Kenjiro Shirabu is late for practice, again.

It’s bad enough that he already missed the morning practice that day, now he also missed their afternoon jog. He’ll never hear the end of it from Goshiki.  _ That damn first year. _

He hopes against all hopes that their coach didn’t notice his absence, but of course that would be impossible because the  _ bakemono  _ never misses anything--particularly if any of the team members slack off at practice.  _ Especially the regulars. _

But Shirabu hasn’t been slacking off. He knows better than to do something as stupid as that. Being the only regular player who didn’t get in the school with a sports scholarship, he is well aware that he isn’t the best player in their team. 

He isn’t a genius, that much he has to say. He also doesn’t have exceptional skills to make up for his lack of height, power and strength that most of the regular players in their team have.

If anything, he might be one of the most passive setter in their prefecture. But he is smart. He knows how to utilize the strengths of his teammates and as a setter,  _ isn’t that the most important thing?  _ He figures he doesn’t really need the limelight. He only needs to do one thing and he will be useful so whatever insecurities running in his system, he pushes them aside, because at the very least he gets to set for…

_ Ushijima-san. _

He sees their captain and ace player by the gate trotting his way back from the afternoon jog -- _ which Shirabu totally missed _ . When he stops by the gate to catch his breath, Shirabu’s breath also catches in his throat. Ushijima pulls out the earphones from both ears and wipes at the sweat forming on his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket. 

Shirabu just watches him from afar, admiring his height, his built and really, just his overpowering presence inside or outside the court. The black muscle top shirt is drenched with sweat and Shirabu is half-sure that his captain, once again, left the rest of their team behind. Their coach has often told them to not waste energy on afternoon jogs because it’s only supposed to  _ warm them up _ , but as always, Ushijima seems to think otherwise.  _ That’s normal. Everything Ushijima does has always been intense. _

Ushijima scans the empty school ground and Shirabu reflexively dodges behind the nearest vending machine, hoping the captain doesn’t notice him. 

_ It’s stupid, really _ . Even if he’s late for the afternoon jog and for the last two consecutive practices, it isn’t like his captain to call him out on it. Unlike their coach, Ushijima isn’t the type to make a big deal out of things like these unless it begins to affect your performance. Probably for Shirabu… as long as he keeps those tosses coming, Ushijima wouldn’t even bat an eye on his tardiness.

_ Sometimes he wishes, he cared enough to call him out on it, though.  _ Shirabu almost gagged at the thought as he shakes his head trying to erase the vile idea in his head while a blush rises to his cheeks because the truth is…

_ He’s in love with him. _

His face suddenly feels hot now as he begins a slow descend beside the machine he’s been hiding and onto the concrete, which also feels hot to the touch, by the way. He clamps a hand over his mouth, afraid that the thundering of his heart would escape from his lips and carried off to the man who is standing a few feet away from him.

Ushijima’s presence is the reason why he has been attending practices late. It has been tradition in their team--Tendou’s actually--to engage in small talk at the lockers before practice starts. He used to like those times,  _ now, he hates them _ .

He can’t talk to their captain, now, without actively blushing and he can’t even look him in the eye which is really just pathetic. But maybe, realizing the  _ crush _ you harbored over someone back when he barely knew you has transformed into something much more complicated like unrequited love, nobody can really blame bim if he feels a little bit awkward.  _ Right? _

Not that, he will act on it, anyway. He is content with admiring and loving him from afar if it meant he could be his teammate for the remainder of his last year, no matter how bitter that simple fact tasted in his mouth.

“So cool!!! Their school is so big!!!” A loud screeching voice yelps from where Ushijima was standing.

“Oh no, we lost Ushiwaka-san!”

At the mention of his name, Shirabu Is on his feet again. He peeks from the vending machine and notices two people who are obviously not from their school, if their uniforms are to be considered. A small boy, probably a middle schooler, with orange hair is standing beside a taller guy with the blackest hair he has ever seen and an intense glare resting on his equally powerful looking face.

Shirabu flinches at how the taller guy, albeit looking younger, reminds him of how Ushijima looks when he’s serious in a match. 

“This is your fault, Hinata-boke!”

“How is this my fault?”

“You got distracted by the horses, dumbass!”

“So were you!”

Shirabu stares at them with disbelief.  _ Who are these people and what do they want with Ushijima? Are they his friends?  _ No, that’s impossible. Shirabu can’t even imagine their captain associating with such a rowdy pair.  _ Must be his fans? Probably, yes. _

He decides to help them because they look terribly lost but before he could come up to them and offer his assistance, the taller guy, who is apparently called  _ Kageyama _ (which by the way sounds terribly familiar) gets the bright idea to follow the signs littered around their school.

They’re gone even before he emerges from his hiding place.

“Yoh, Kenjiro!” Shirabu looks around to find their middle blocker, Tendou Satori walking towards his direction, one hand raised and the other inside his pocket. His red spiky hair, has caught the orange sunlight and it glows vehemently against the light.

“Tendou-san.” Shirabu briefly bows to acknowledge his senpai when he reached the vending machine. Tendou takes a few coins from his pocket, slipping it inside the coin slots of the machine.

“Did you just come back from the run?” Shirabu asks as Tendou taps a finger lightly on his chin while contemplating on his choice of drink. He turns to Shirabu and gives him that usual unnerving grin before answering casually, “I skipped it.”

Shirabu doesn’t respond and just gapes at him. It is unusual for his senpais to miss any training, but then again, this is Tendou we’re talking about--yes, he is talented, but he can be really devious, if not creepy most of the time.

Tendou pushes the button on his choice-- _ chocolate milkshake _ not before whining how they are not putting chocolate ice cream in vending machines inside their school because apparently there are  _ “thousands of them and why can’t they just make one that would sell ice creams only?” _

Shirabu doesn’t react because with Tendou, one can never tell if he is being serious or not. He just finds it amusing, in a way.

“So, what’s up with you stalking Ushiwaka?”

Shirabu blinks. Tendou stares at him knowingly with those large, downturned eyes, a ghost of a smile on his lips. 

Shirabu opens his mouth to speak but his heart is beating so fast, he couldn’t form any coherent syllable, even more words. His mind has been assaulted by a barrage of questions:  _ How did he know? I’m sure I wasn’t being obvious but why… how? _

Tendou gives him a sly smile, “From the way you’re blushing, I guess I let the cat out of the bag.”

“I… I don’t know what you are talking about.” He finally finds his tongue, again. But apparently, not the courage to look at his senpai’s leering gaze.

Tendou chuckles and the sound is enough for Shirabu to wish that the ground would just open up and swallow him right now. “You don’t have to be defensive and deny it. I won’t tell anyone,  _ Kenjiro-chan _ ” The name riles something inside him and he looks up to 

see Tendou still with that ear-splitting grin, “Especially not  _ your _ Ushiwaka.”

Shirabu takes a few deep breaths to calm his thundering heart. When he feels like he can talk again without stuttering, he musters up all his courage and says, “I seriously don’t understand what you mean.” His voice is strong and it surprises Tendou but he just proceeds in picking up his bags, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get to practice.”

He walks away without turning back. His steps towards the gym are big and heavy but he doesn’t care. He grips the strap of his gym bag on his shoulders too tight until his knuckles turn to white. When he reaches the gym, he stops abruptly upon seeing the two guys at the gate talking to Ushijima.

He doesn’t like to eavesdrop, because really, he isn’t interested with whatever they are talking about.  _ Probably about Ushijima giving them fansigns or what _ . But he stops in his tracks when he hears a familiar name being called out.

_ “Oikawa, he’s a good setter. He should have come to Shiratorizawa.” _

It’s like he has been slapped in the face…  _ no, more of punched squarely in the jaw.  _ Everything inside him turns cold and he finds himself trembling. But he continues listening as Ushijima tells the two guys how Oikawa could have brought out the best in  _ any team _ he belongs to, no matter how strong or weak they are because that is  _ his talent _ .

He slowly backs away from the three just to keep away from hearing distance and so he could just mute the words, now. But he also knows that they are too late because up until now, Ushijima is still obsessing about that pretty setter from their rival school and the thought of it just _ hurts _ .  _ Fucking, stupid, goddamn hurts like hell. _

_ He should have come to Shiratorizawa.  _ It isn’t the first time he’s heard that phrase. He has heard that whenever they play them in the court, he hears them whenever they watch a match of that team and the Oikawa sets an incredibly amazing play effortlessly. He hears it all the time and he’s just  _ fucking tired of it _ . 

The first time he saw Ushijima play was in middle school, against Kitagawa Daiichi. The first time he saw the power and the athletic instinct by the wing spiker, he was mesmerized. Back then, he knew immediately that he wanted to stand in the court with him. Which is why even when he didn’t get an athletic recommendation from their school, he took the exams and passes it because of his good grades. 

When he joined the volleyball club, he learned that synching with Ushijima nor the rest of the team isn’t going to be as easy as he imagined. But this didn’t stop him. He continued practicing twice as hard as anybody in the team because he knew, he isn’t as talented or as gifted as the rest of them, but all the things he lacked, he could make up with hard work.

When he became the official setter and replaced his senpai, he could never be happier. Finally, finally, he was able to stand in the same court as Ushijima, wear the same uniform… set the ball for him.

_ But of course, that isn’t enough. _

When they played Aoba Johsai, and won… he found Ushijima talking to the other team’s setter after the match.  _ You should have come to our school. But you let your pride get in the way _ .

The setter merely gave Ushijima a chuckle and just walked away towards their team’s wing spiker who was waiting for him, tapping his foot impatiently as the two of them talked.

_ He is a good setter.  _ Shirabu knows that, already. He brings out the best in his team.  _ So why? _

“We’re going to Tokyo to beat them.” Shirabu looks up and stares as the duo walks past him.

They look suddenly different now. Their faces are stern, their expressions more serious than before and their voices sound definitely calmer than the first time he saw them. They see him and the orange-haired kid, as if remembering his manners, looks a bit embarrassed and gives him a quick bow. 

Kageyama, however, merely gives him a side glance before he turns back to the smaller guy. But even that quick glance is enough to unnerve Shirabu because it awfully looks familiar. Or maybe because it looks terribly similar to Ushijima’s.  _ Here he goes again. Why does he have to relate this kid to their captain? _

“Let’s race back, Kageyama?”

“You’re on, Hinata-boke.”

He notices their white shirts, and sees the grey letters printed on their left chest:  _ Karasuno High School.  _ He realized immediately why the guy seemed familiar. He has watched some of his matches back in middle school. The setter from Kitagawa Daichii, Oikawa’s kouhai, Karasuno’s genius setter.  _ The king of the court. _

He watches as the pair engages in a race and disappears through the gates of their school. 

He smiles bitterly to himself.  _ Another setter. The genius setter people are talking about. I’m pushed one step back, again.  _

He takes a deep breath to steady himself. He looks down at his watch.  _ Already an hour late. _ He probably should just skip practice since he’s not in the mood anyway. His coach will most likely rat him out again tomorrow, but he just can’t face Ushijima today.

_ Not after what he said.  _ It’s pathetic, he knows. It’s not like he could do anything about it. Ushijima is a talented player, and it is obvious that he would want to be teammates with someone as talented as him. Shirabu isn’t one of them. He has long accepted that.  _ But why does it still hurt like hell when the truth gets shoved down your throat? _

This is going nowhere, he is well aware of that. It isn’t like he is jealous of Oikawa’s talent or Kageyama’s genius. It is more of, he is envious of the things they have which he will never, ever have. Like for example,  _ Ushijima’s respect? _

Of course, he won’t directly admit that. He won’t even tell their captain about his true feelings because really, what’s the point? It isn’t like he would do something about it. He would probably not even care.  _ He’s a teammate. He’s essential to winning.  _ Ushijima hates losing so much, he’d probably just shrug off Shirabu’s feelings, all his affection and insecurities away and move on to the next available talented setter.

He is replaceable.  _ What made him think otherwise?  _

He takes out his phone to send a message to his coach and lie about not feeling well when it buzzes to life.

He checks it and his heart skips a beat when he sees who sent him a message.

FROM:  **_Ushijima-san_ **

SUBJECT:  **_practice_ **

Where are you? Don’t miss practice today.

Shirabu grips the phone in a vice-like grip, shutting his eyes tight and willing himself not to let the tirade of emotions fall as tears from his eyes.  _ They sting like hell. _

_ He should have come to Shiratorizawa.  _ Bullshit.  _ Open your eyes and notice that it was me. It was me who came to your goddamn school to stand beside you in the court. It was me, you insufferable bastard. _

 

**+++**

  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shirabu wonders if those strawberry lips actually taste like strawberries.

He is on his way back from the arena’s cafeteria when he hears the news. He has never been someone who believes in hearsays easily so he half-runs and half-jogs back to his team who is now converging at the entrance gate, about to leave the premises of the arena.

He spots the maroon and white jersey of their team and he decides to stop his rush and walk casually towards them like he isn’t running like crazy a few minutes ago. He wants to confirm the news, but doesn’t want to seem too eager to know.

Their team just recently finished a match of their own against Kesenike West High School, winning both sets against them and so far everyone has been on high spirits. Tendou and some of the first years and second years (mostly non-regulars) have been gloating with the victory, already imagining standing in the orange court when they compete in the nationals, again. Shirabu is different. He doesn’t celebrate premature victory, no matter how probable it is.

Especially now when he learned that Aoba Johsai lost to Karasuno. He doesn’t have to confirm it from the awkward silence which seemed to grow between the rest of them. It has come as a surprise with the team who expected the same school to face them during the finals, that even the usually stoic Ohira is looking a bit uneasy about this development. 

Their team is strong, that much, Shirabu is sure of. But he also understands the disconcerting looks his teammates are passing around. Although it isn’t easy winning against Seijoh, they’ve faced them many times before and even if they make new plays, change, add, tweak a bit in their plays,  _they really can’t change their styles overnight_ ; they are used to it. 

Karasuno is unfamiliar territory. Sure, they’ve heard about that freak duo: the small middle blocker and that genius setter; that high calibre libero and even their quite reliable third years, but they have never played them before--let alone experienced their moves, firsthand. Besides that, they did defeat Seijoh.

The news dampens the mood but before all of them lose themselves into their own anxious bubbles, their captain immediately supplies the tensed silence with a: “It doesn’t matter who’s against us. We will win, anyway.”

Everyone snaps back in attention, remembering who they are and who they are with.  _Of course. They have Ushijima._ Shirabu almost laughs bitterly to himself thinking how insecure he just felt when in reality, there is just no way somebody in their prefecture could defeat their ace player.

That’s all it took before they are back to the usual playful banters. Semi walks over to him and he looks up at his senpai with hooded eyes. From the looks of it, he’s going to get an earful, most probably about the last set and Shirabu unthinkingly bites on his lower lip as he waits judgment.

“You messed up a lot of your tosses on the last set.”  _Ah, there it is._ Semi has always been critical of him ever since he replaced his position as the official setter of the team. At first, Shirabu attributes it to sourgriping, he simply couldn’t accept he has been replaced by his junior  _(and really, Shirabu couldn’t blame him. If it happens to him, he’d probably also bully the person who will steal his position)_. Still, understanding is different from accepting so he resents every sentiment his senior gives him.

It took a few months before he realized that though his senpai is as competitive as the rest of the people in the team, it also means he won’t hinder any move to bring them closer to winning. Even if it meant he had to sit out on games. Soon, after he has gone over the idea that his senpai is just bitter, he realizes that in truth, Semi mostly gives him critiques to improve his performance.

 _At least, most of the time. Other times, he just wants to make Shirabu feel like shit._ This is one of those times.

He looks up at the man standing over him. Semi isn’t as tall as Ushijima, but Shirabu, being one of the smallest in their team makes it easy for almost everyone to tower over him and his senpai uses this height difference to his advantage as he scowls at Shirabu. Shirabu almost winces.  _Almost._  “Ah, yes. I kind of did. But--”

“You’re lucky Ushijima-san is a pretty damn good player.” He cuts him off and honestly, Shirabu’s a bit relieved that he did because he really doesn’t know what to say next after the ‘but’. “Otherwise those sloppy tosses wouldn’t even--”

“Hai, Hai…” a lanky arm snakes around Semi’s arm and tugs him away from Shirabu. The red spiky hair of Tendou appears from behind Semi as he peers at Shirabu’s surprisingly flustered face, “Don’t be so mean on your  _kouhai_ , Eita-san.”

He uses that sing-song voice and Shirabu watches Semi shift uncomfortably in his shoes. He stops himself from chuckling. He doesn’t know why but somehow, Semi always acts differently around their middle blocker.

“Alright, the bus is ready! Let’s head home.” Saitou-san calls them up and the rest of them rounds up and falls into a systematic rhythm of walking silently towards the waiting bus.

He sits beside Kawanishi, who selfishly takes the window seat without even asking him if he wants it, because  _damn it, he does_. But he sits down on the seat next to him, nonetheless. Aside from being second year, himself, Shirabu sits with Kawanishi because the guy doesn’t speak throughout the ride. Every bus ride, Kawanishi would just pull out his earphones and ignore everything around him, including Shirabu and maybe it is just an innate masochistic tendency but Shirabu actually likes that. He isn’t a fan of unnecessary small talk.

So even if he wants a window seat, he chooses to sit with Kawanishi because of that.  _Only that._

 _And oh…_ also probably because Kawanishi sits across the seat of Ohira and Semi which is just behind Ushijima’s seat where he sits alone. So it offers a great view of their captain without anybody noticing.

Like Kawanishi, Ushijima barely breathes a word on the way to a game and on the way back home. He usually settles down easily in the chair, unzips his jacket, props his elbow against the glass window and looks out the streets.

Okay, that may sound  _stalker-ish,_ but the only reason Shirabu wants to look at him is for that slim chance of catching him asleep. He wants to know how… no, more of craves to know how this man who is usually wearing a permanent scowl, a completely guarded mien, looks like when he is sleeping.

 _Gosh, he’s acting like a lovesick girl, again._ It has been a few months since he admitted to himself that he is in love with their captain, but also a few months since he also decided to keep those feelings locked up inside. So there really is no point in obsessing over him.  _Right? Right!_

_So why is he craning his neck to look out the window when their coach noticed his absence in the bus?_

The  _bakemono_ sighs disbelievingly. He looks at Ohira and asks where the captain went but he is clueless, too.“Go find him then.” the coach replies and Ohira is already up from his seat when Shirabu suddenly stands up and offers to look for him instead.

He doesn’t know what came over him and he silently prays that nobody would think this is weird because even for him  _this is weird._ Ohira is the closest to Ushijima anyway, so it is only acceptable that he look for his friend. But Shirabu has to stupidly get in the way and  _for what?_

Nobody bats a lid at that, though. Shirabu heaves a sigh of relief when Ohira shrugs and says, “Alright. Go find him then.” while the coach just scowls at him, which doesn’t really bother him because that is just how his face looks.

He goes down off the bus, noticing a little too late how Tendou is leering at him knowingly. He blatantly ignores him and walks back towards the arena.

_He finds him talking to Oikawa._

“So you’re telling me I made a wrong choice in going to Seijoh and should have went to Shiratorizawa?” Aoba Johsai’s captain and setter Oikawa Tooru stands a few feet away from Ushijima. Shirabu is standing out of earshot, but Oikawa’s boisterous voice is easily carried around in the now empty lobby. He moves a few steps back, not wanting to be discovered even when Ushijima’s back is to him.

Oikawa puts a hand on his hip looking like a  _fucking_ supermodel with his overly styled hair and confident smile as he regards Ushijima, “You really are something, aren’t you?”

“You let your worthless pride get in the way. In the end you chose a wrong path.” Ushijima says and whence Oikawa’s voice is like melted chocolate touching every corner of the lobby, clinging to its walls, Ushijima’s is deep and rumbling, bouncing off the walls giving a hollow echo.

Oikawa chuckles and Shirabu hates the sound because it’s beautiful. Which is a baseless thing to feel because seriously, why would he hate hate on something beautiful?  _Right. Because Ushijima knows it, too._ And he finally, begrudgingly understands the captain’s obsession with him.  _It is almost similar to his feelings so how did he not see this before?_

They are still talking but Shirabu has already turned around, unshed tears stinging his eyes and blurring his vision as he proceeds to where the comfort rooms are.

He isn’t sure how fast he is going--maybe a bit too fast because when he slammed into someone, his body is immediately thrown on the ground, his ass taking most of the impact as he crashed onto the tiled floor.

He looks up and doesn’t recognize the person immediately, only a flash of black and orange and the number ‘9’. He wipes at his eyes and sees a dumbfounded Kageyama staring at him in disbelief, carton of milk in hand, the straw hanging stupidly from his mouth as he gaped at him openly.

“You could at least say sorry.” He grunts pushing himself up, wincing when a sharp pain shoots from his hips as he stood up-- _he hopes this pain will be gone tomorrow_.

“Uh… sorry.” The Karasuno setter mumbles an apology, dark eyes not leaving him. Shirabu frowns at him, “What the hell is your problem?”

“You’re from Shiratorizawa.” Kageyama isn’t asking it. It’s like he is stating a fact and the wide eyes Shirabu saw a few moments ago, is already gone and replaced with an almost challenging stare.

“Well, if I didn’t steal my uniform, I guess you could assume that.” He isn’t usually this mean. But Kageyama is  _the_  genius setter-- _another setter he could not compete against with--_ and somehow, that thought makes him want to bully him as much as he can.  _Talk about acting like a stupid kid._

“I think I saw you before.” Kageyama says, ignoring his sarcastic response earlier.

“Yeah, yeah. When you trespassed on our school. I was there.” He says wondering if he should stop there or tell him…  _oh what the hell!_ “I also heard about your little speech about beating our team and going to Nationals.”

Kageyama blinks at him, surprised and it is already too late to realize he just admitted to eavesdropping on their conversation. Shirabu looks away, embarrassed but not before he sees the adorable way Kageyama’s expression changed from surprise to an unexpected intensity.

 _His eyes do look like Ushijima’s._ No, wait. It isn’t the physical qualities per se. But more of the  _way they stare_. It’s like they are peeling off your skin, peering into your very core, discovering secrets even you know nothing about.

 _Shit, he must be crazy to think about that. To think about him, again._ He senses another onslaught of nameless emotions ready to take over him and he suddenly finds it hard to breathe. He takes a step forward towards the comfort room but was stopped when a hand holds his wrist.

“You dropped your…” He looks at Kageyama’s hand holding his thin wrist, the contrast of their skin too evident side by side. “...your school ID.” He looks up to find Kageyama staring at him with those wide eyes again, the intense glare piercing enough it hurts.

He isn’t sure but he thinks he saw confusion in those eyes. He isn’t sure because once again, the world is blurry from his  _stupid tears because shit he is full-blown crying now._  “Are you okay? Shit, did the fall hurt you? I can bring you to the infirmary if you want.” Kageyama sounds surprisingly concerned and he almost snorts in his face if he isn’t pathetically crying now.

“No. I’m fine.” he says pulling his hand away and grabbing the said fallen school ID from Kageyama who releases it without a second thought.

He is about to leave, forget all about this rather embarrassing encounter when both of them heard footsteps coming from the direction he also came from a few minutes ago.

It’s probably a panicked reflex. Probably his instinct. Probably something stupid inside him that made him grab Kageyama’s hand, pulling him to the behind the vending machine they have been standing in front of to, well, hide from whoever was coming.

Kageyama follows him, albeit the shock and confusion present in his face and the moment Shirabu sees this, he mentally curses himself.  _Way to go, Kenjiro. Way to go, stupid._

He dares a peek from their position, realizing with a huff that this has been his second time hiding behind a vending machine for whatever pathetic reason.  _What’s next? Hiding behind a dumpster?_

Still, he’s glad to know that his instincts didn’t fail him as he watched Oikawa casually strode in with their team’s ace player, Iwaizumi, if he remembers correctly.

He looks different, though. He’s whining like a little kid, pouting about something and the ace player with spiky, unruly hair is just frowning at him. Oikawa clings to Iwaizumi’s arm, “But Iwa-chan, he really does get on my nerves.”

“I don’t care, Trashykawa.  _He_ also gets on my nerves, too. But you don’t see me sneaking around talking to  _him_.” the disdain on Iwaizumi’s voice is evident and he wriggles free from Oikawa’s grasp.

“But Iwa-chaaaaan…. I told you, he cornered me.”

“You should have walked away.”

“But I can’t do that. That’s like admitting defeat.”

“You and your worthless pride.”

“Have I told you that you’re beginning to sound like him?”

“Shut up, Crappykawa.”

“Mean, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa dramatically purses his lips to look seriously offended but the wing spiker is having none of it. He walks ahead, still clearly pissed and Oikawa slows down to a halt. When he did stop however, Iwaizumi turns back with a questioning look.

A silence falls between them. Beside him, he feels Kageyama stirs but doesn’t say a word. It’s as if both of them are watching the scene unfold before them, waiting for the next step of the protagonist.

“He told me I made the wrong choice.” Oikawa’s voice is back to the chocolatey smooth sound, the shrill, small voice gone.

Iwaizumi doesn’t look surprised and merely grunts in response.

“...and for once, I thought…”

“Don’t even think about it.” Iwaizumi cuts him off effectively and Oikawa looks up, eyes brimming with tears. Shirabu almost laughs because  _wow, for a pretty person that he is, he sure is an ugly crier_.

“This is the last chance  _we_ have. And  _I_  blew it.” Oikawa cries, “Next year, the two of us would be in different universities and… we won’t be competing against him.”

In two huge steps, Iwaizumi is back in his original place, beside Oikawa and clicking his tongue in annoyance, “Oi, Trashykawa. Are you really crying because of that? I told you to not blame your-”

“Baka.” Oikawa hisses grabbing a handful of Iwaizumi’s jersey and pulls him into a quick kiss. Iwaizumi lets out a soft gasp before his lips are complete sealed with the Seijoh captain’s.

Shirabu’s eyes widen as he watches the unexpected development unfold before them. He looks up to see Kageyama’s staring wide-eyed at the two and Shirabu remembers that yeah, these guys were his seniors back in middle school.

“I’m crying because we’ll be separated.” Oikawa says releasing him after a few moments passed. Oikawa pushes Iwaizumi away like he’s annoyed that the latter didn’t immediately realize why he’s upset and marches away, huffing.

It takes a few more seconds for Iwaizumi’s better sense to kick in but when it does, he clicks his tongue a little too loudly and follows Oikawa calling out to him angrily, “What the hell is that,  _Tooru?!_ ”

Shirabu doesn’t miss how red his face has become. “Wow.” he says, mostly to himself. But when Kageyama sighs beside him, he remembers he isn’t alone. He acknowledges his presence by looking up at him, “So the two of them, huh?”

“Well, they have been together since they were kids.” Kageyama says finally coming down from his stupor.

Shirabu hums in response. “That doesn’t mean a thing.” He chuckles sardonically on his hypocrisy.  _Because he does want to believe that familiarity breeds trust and trust in return, builds…_

 _Love?_  There is just no way he would say this, especially not to a stranger like this Karasuno setter, the infamous  _king of the court_ . “Well you seem surprised when  _that_ happened.” He says lacklusterly.

Kageyama looks away, a blush rising to the apples of his cheeks, making the uncharacteristic scowl on his face--if Shirabu is being totally honest, kind of cute.  _Shit, did he just think that the king of the court is cute? No, he most definitely did not, thank you._

“Well, I kind of know they’ll end up together, considering how they were back in Kitagawa Daiichi.” It’s Shirabu’s turn to stare up in surprise to the boy at how casually he is taking this. “...but I just.. I didn’t expect Oikawa-san to do something like that in public.”

 _What?!_ “What?! The kiss?!” Now, Shirabu really does laugh because Kageyama’s face has gone full red and he begins shifting awkwardly away from him _._ “So, you do not approve of PDA, huh?”

“S...shut up.” he snaps in that adorably sheepish way.  _Oh, that’s just so cute._ He ignores the fluttering in his stomach as he gawks at the first year setter. “For someone who looks as harsh as you, you really are naive. I bet that shrimpy you’re always with knows more than you do in the love department.”

“I…” Kageyama starts but his voice trails off for lack of any excuse and Shirabu shakes his head in amusement then out of nowhere, Karasuno’s genius setter, the  _king of the court,_ the other half of that freak duo everyone’s been talking about, blurts out, “I have already kissed someone!”

Shirabu almost chokes as he stares--no, more of gawks at Kageyama, his jaw dropping on the floor.  _I can’t believe he just said that._  And from the looks of it, neither did Kageyama because he is now as red as a tomato and the look on his face borders from utmost embarrassment and constipation.

Shirabu grins. He never is the manipulative type and he doesn’t really like teasing people-- _he usually leaves that to people like Tendou--_ but this moment is just too sweet, he can’t resist the taste of victory.  _Besides, Kageyama blushing is a sight to behold._ Even his ears are beet red, his eyes trying desperately to avert his gaze and if the droplets of sweat on his forehead is any indication how uncomfortable he is right now, Shirabu swears Kageyama just wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

“Oh? And who’s the  _lucky girl_?” He puts much acid on the last words enjoying the way Karasuno’s setter squirm under his knowing gaze. He realizes how much enjoyable this is and finally understands why Tendou does it.

When Kageyama doesn’t answer, he snaps back into reality, though.  _Maybe, he went too far._  Especially when Kageyama looks like a socially awkward person… just like Ushijima.  _Right. That._

That is probably the reason why he continues staring at Kageyama even as the he shudders awkwardly at Shirabu’s unwanted attention.  _That is their difference, though._  Ushijima would never get intimidated by anyone and would never find himself in an embarrassing situation such as this. And though Shirabu likes that about him, he still wonders what he will look like when all his guards are down, and he is left vulnerable.

 _This. Maybe, he will look like this._   _Or maybe, not as cute._

He watches as Kageyama’s mouth opens and closes, like he is trying to say something but his stuttering lips would not cooperate. Shirabu feels an unusual feeling stir inside him as he looks at those lips.

They are red from the way Kageyama is biting on them--the color reminds him of strawberries Goshinki was eating this lunch. The first year offered it to the team but the rest of them laughed at him, saying he looked like someone going in a picnic with all the fruits he had packed in his bento but he shrugs off the comments and continues eating like a girl in a picnic.

Shirabu  licks his lips unconsciously as he watches the pink of Kageyama’s tongue peek from his mouth to swipe on his lips, moistening them. And the only thought in his mind is:  _I wonder if his lips taste like strawberries._

He can't help but wonder if whoever got that kiss made sure to taste his mouth properly.  _Who is that person? A girl? A boy?_  He doesn't seem to swing that way, though imagining him with a girl also seems improbable considering his harsh mien.

_If only..._

Before his mind could catch up to what his body is doing, he has already tiptoed slightly up to look up at Kageyama with half-lidded eyes. It’s like being in a trance. He wonders if what would Ushijima’s lips look like if he bites harshly on them like how Kageyama does.  _Will it bleed? Will it just turn into a strawberry red pucker? Or he would never see it because Ushijima would never be as vulnerable to bite on his own lips?_ His eyes only focus on the redness of those lips trapped between teeth and his mind can already see Ushijima doing it--and oh, it would look terribly sexy. Maybe, if he won’t do it, Shirabu could do it for him.

The lips are already there. So near, so easy to just reach and taste them. Just one tip of…

 _They taste like milk. Not strawberries like he imagined, but still sweet, nonetheless. And they are soft, warm and a little wet._ They also stopped quivering the moment Shirabu's lips landed on them, like a butterfly finally settling down on one flower. And he too, settles down into the kiss, swallowing the soft gasp that escapes the lips when he slants their lips together, pulling him closer.  _Him. Who is he kissing again?_

When Shirabu opens his eyes, all he sees is the setter's dark eyes wide with shock. He pulls away immediately, face flaming red from embarrassment because  _what the hell did he just do?!_  Kageyama just blinks at him, mouth agape and  _damn him to hell_ because Shirabu thinks it looks fucking adorable as it keeps the butterflies in his stomach flutter wildly around.

He hates the feeling and wishes he could douse those stupid critters with gastric juice to die. Shirabu swallows hard and looks away, the ghost of Kageyama’s lips still on his lips “I-I better go now. It never really is my style to patronize with the enemy.”

Without listening to another word, he starts to march his way back to the entrance, where he came from willing himself to reach the bus before he dies from embarrassment. He stops in his tracks when he hears Kageyama call after him, “A girl.”

He looks back with a confused look, “What?”

“A girl.” Kageyama clears his throat, “It was a girl. The first person I kissed.”

Shirabu feels his heart sink even when he doesn't understand why. He forces a smile, "I don't know why you're telling me that."

"I thought... you wanted to know." He says innocently and Shirabu hears something inside him break. He doesn't understand what it is but, well, it's there. He gives a sarcastic smirk, "Well, I guess, good for you."

He needs to leave now. His mind is already screaming at him to move, but he stands there like the stupid person that he is, waiting for Kageyama's response.  _Seriously, what does he expect? Kageyama telling him that his kiss was better? What the hell is his problem?_

He turns around and this time, even when he hears Kageyama mutter something unintelligible, he keeps going until he reaches their bus and finds his coach already at his patience's limits because Ushijima is already in the bus and he is the only person missing.

He gives a quick apology, avoiding Ushijima's intense expression hovering behind their coach's sputtering mouth. But his mind couldn’t focus on what the  _bakemono_ is saying--something about not loitering when they’re already on the way home, how they should have already left a few minutes ago and now they’re late for schedule--yeah, basically something around those words.

He tries his best to listen but his mind keeps drifting away so he justs pretends to understand what they are saying until the coach has had enough and told him to sit the fuck down. He settles beside Kawanishi, thankful that his seatmate has already fallen asleep and he realizes he's also tired. His heart, however skips a beat when he sees a cluster of black jerseys emerge from the arena and he instinctively and stupidly dodges from the window.

He catches a glimpse of the tall setter, who is standing with a scowl beside the orange-haired middle blocker who is animatedly talking about something probably stupid considering the scowl on Kageyama's face. Under the orange light of the setting sun, Kageyama looks a bit different now. He looks a bit taller, his shoulders, a bit broader. Just like a proper volleyball player. His breath hitches and he feels something tug at his heart as their bus drives slowly away.

That afternoon, he doesn't even glance at Ushijima.

 

**+++**

  
  
  


 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shirabu does something really stupid but that's okay because he's been doing really stupid things for a while now and he's getting used to it.

If the tensed silence inside the bus is any indication of what just transpired that day, anybody can tell it isn’t the best day for the rest of the team. _Okay,_ it isn’t completely silent because Shirabu can still hear soft murmurs at the back of the bus and the very distinct sniffling of Goshinki, which on ordinary days, he might have snapped at him, but today, he found it oddly relatable.

It’s not like he would openly be emotional in front of the team, but his mood reflects the rest’s as he sits there hands curled into tight fists resting on his knee caps. Not even Tendou tries to lighten the already heavy mood as he currently is just looking out the window, still dazed from the defeat they just suffered.

That’s right. _The great eagles had been grounded by a flock of crows._ Karasuno defeated Shiratorizawa in the finals.

He bites his lips shut and closes his eyes, trying to erase the moment it happened from his mind. But it doesn’t matter because he can still hear the echo of the ball when it hit the court followed by the high-pitched sound of the final whistle and he remembered how it sounded like a wailing cry to his ears. And then the entire stadium fell into a deafening silence, like the entire universe suddenly ceased to exist at that very moment; that even Karasuno’s mismatched cheering team just openly stared at the scoreboard results. And the players standing in both sides of the court just froze on the spot--both in surprised silence, but for different reasons.

But it’s only the calm before the storm because when a single person (from Karasuno’s cheering squad, he thinks it is their manager) spoke the words _“We did it.”_ , all hell broke loose. Everything suddenly moves in a blur and for some reason he has found himself lining up to take a bow at their side of the court, Goshinki crying stupidly beside him.

If he isn’t part of the team, he might have found the entire situation hilariously ironic.

He remembers Ohira asking him if he is okay. He remembers saying he is, that he is just surprised of the outcome but really, he just doesn’t know what to feel that moment. It’s like someone pulled the rug under his feet and he’s just falling. He vaguely remembers tearing up-- _okay, he might have cried, or at least almost cried_ , but like the rest of his memories, even that doesn’t seem to sit well with him.

The only vivid image in his mind is the pools of black eyes which looked down on him they lined up to do a proper handshake with Karasuno. Kageyama’s face is unreadable when the two of them moved in for the handshake which was quite unexpected considering how he was very competitive during the match, glaring and responding to every good play their team makes.

But Kageyama squeezed his hand tightly and a little longer than a normal handshake would require. The setter’s hands are clammy but warm, his fingers bare the equal opposite of Shirabu’s cold ones and bandaged fingers. He feels the stingy pain of defeat. That is when he looks up at the setter who stands a couple inches taller than him and swears to himself, amidst the tears currently blurring his vision, that he will have his revenge one day.

Kageyama’s face however, changes and he notices a slight flush appear in those sweaty cheeks before Kageyama retreats back to his celebrating _(and by celebrating, he means crying)_ teammates., but then again, it could just be the lighting, or probably the exhaustion of the recent match--or probably both or maybe, not even one of them and he is just imagining things.

 

Kawanishi shifts beside him and he turns to find him frowning at him. He wonders why--until he sees his reflection on the glass window and realizes how red his face is. _Stupid._ Thankfully, Kawanishi doesn’t say a single word, not even to comfort him and just looks away.

When they arrive in school, the coach rounds them up and Shirabu prepares himself for a scolding, if he’s lucky, if he’s not, his blunders would warrant a slap on the face. But, the _bakemono_ just says a few words about cancelling tomorrow’s practice for all regulars but they still need to participate in the afternoon jog. He dismisses them immediately afterwards and the rest of the team heads on to the club room to change into their uniform and Shirabu follows suit.

The atmosphere in the room is as thick and heavy as it was in the bus, but this time, everyone seems to be openly expressing the frustrations. Everyone is comforting everyone and for a team who isn’t used to losing, Shirabu finds the scene oddly heartwarming. Goshinki slams his head on his locker door and the tin rattles loudly. Ohira grabs him by the shoulder and orders him to stop and he did, but not before he blurts out, “I still want to keep on playing with you, senpai.”

Shirabu is stunned. _Right. This is the last match for their seniors. This is the last match for Ushijima. The last match they played together and even if he follows the man to the college of his choice, there is no guarantee--probably the percentage is little to none that he will become an official setter._ The reality hits him in the face and knocks out the wind out his chest. His eyes scan the room immediately, looking for that brown hair and dark olive eyes--but there was none.

“Shirabu, are you okay?” Semi asks noticing his distressed expression. _He isn’t._ The tears are coming now, flowing steadily from his eyes to drip down his chin and no matter how many deep breaths he takes, his heart doesn’t seem to calm down.

“Uh… I think I left something in the bus.” He stammers before he excused himself out of the room. He hears someone call his name but the sound already faded into the background as he blindly ran towards the gym.

Tendou is on his way out when Shirabu arrives at the entrance, lungs burning at the lack of oxygen from the way he ran. The middle blocker had the decency to look shock, probably because of how he looked--which Shirabu is sure, it is anything but composed. But a knowing smile crosses his face when he realizes what is happening and he steps aside, “He’s still inside.”

Shirabu ignores his wide grin and nods before stepping inside, hearing the soft slide of the door behind him, followed by footsteps of someone walking away. He looks inside the empty gym, his eyes surveying the place which has been like home to him for two years now and his eyes settle at the man lying down in the middle, knees bent so his feet are still on the floor, one hand outstretched while the other rests on his face, covering his eyes.

He wonders how it would feel like, now. Tossing and not having Ushijima spike them… and the idea hurts more than expected.

He takes a step forward and Ushijima immediately notices his presence. He pushes himself up without totally standing up, and turns to look at Shirabu. Those olive eyes pierce through his skin, lances through his flesh and muscles under that very same skin and reaches his heart, making it ache in that terribly delicious way.

 

“Shirabu?” He asks, the deep voice echoing against the walls of their gym. His name almost sounds beautiful in those lips and he just stares at the way they move. They are pale and somewhere a voice inside Shirabu’s head is thinking lips shouldn’t look that way… _they need to be strawberry red._

He shuts that voice immediately and focuses on the olive eyes instead, but even those feel wrong. _They aren’t dark enough._

“What is it?” Ushijima asks and Shirabu opens his mouth to say the only thing he’s been dying to say.

 _I like you._ But somehow, the words don’t reach his mouth, his tongue doesn’t move and his lips don’t form the words. Ushijima frowns and grunts as he moves to stand up. Shirabu takes a deep breath, wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket and tries again.

 _I like you._ The words are right there, at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t get it out. What gets out, however, is: “I’m sorry.”

Ushijima looks surprised, eyes slightly widening and brows furrowing when he realizes what Shirabu meant. He walks towards Shirabu and the setter’s instincts is to back away but he plants his feet on the floor and waits until Ushijima is already beside him.

He looks down on the floor, glaring at the ends of his shoes, feeling like he betrayed himself. _I am such a coward. He will move on without knowing what I really feel. He’ll meet new people, probably be team mates that damned setter from Seijoh, and he will ultimately forget he ever knew me._

His self-depreciating thoughts stop when he felt a warm hand on top of his head, carding through his hair.

“Stop overthinking this.” He says in that deep voice. Shirabu looks up at Ushijima feeling like shit. He takes the deepest breath, mustering up all courage and determination still present in his body before he says--no, more of yells the words he hopes he won’t regret:

“I want to toss for you again, Ushijima-san! I want to stand in the court with you more. I want to play volleyball with you. I want… _I want to be with you!_ ” _Wow, they unexpectedly rolled out off of my mouth easier than I thought they would._ Shirabu almost congratulates himself but the look of shock in Ushijima’s face, made him regret everything he just said.

He wonders if it’s not yet too late to pass it off as a joke and he seriously considers it. But there’s still that small hope inside his heart that… _of course, it’s impossible._ Still, he holds his breath, anxiously waiting for their captain’s response.

The shock passes soon enough and Ushijima retracts his hand slowly… too slow, like he’s afraid that if he suddenly removes their only contact, Shirabu would shatter. Shirabu looks up and sees his face withdrawn: the permanent scowl, temporarily gone and replaced by a look that vaguely and surprisingly resembles unease and… _vulnerability._ _It looks wonderful._ Ushijima notices him looking and turns away. He takes a painfully deep breath and just whispers, “I can’t.”

 _Of course._ Shirabu nods, “I know.” And he has never cried harder.

\---

 

He skips the morning jog the following day. Then the practices for the next days with the excuse of coming down with a flu. He receives messages from his classmates wishing him well and eventually he received them from the first years of his team, then his seniors--except from their captain who probably knows he is lying.

He basically does nothing, just stays at home, trying to cure his depression with oversleeping, but every day, he wakes up feeling as shitty as he was the day before so he is beginning to rethink his strategy. His parents are also starting to worry about him, which is saying something because they are usually not home, both busy with work and rarely sees him. Luckily for him, his parents don’t say anything about it and contents themselves with curious and worried glances.

One day when he was on his way to shower--the first after three days, he receives a dubious text from no other than Kawanishi asking if he is still at home. He frowns at his phone, thinking about whether he should respond or ignore it, but he thought it must be about their school since they are classmates. He sends a response: **_What is it?_**

**_I got notes for you. Sensei asked me to deliver them. Send me your address._ **

Shirabu frowns more at this because he never really pegged Kawanishi as someone who would actually bother just to deliver notes to him when they are not even that close. _Something is definitely fishy about this._

He rubs his temples at the signs of an oncoming headache, sighing to himself when he receives a new message.

**_Send it or I’ll throw them in the trash now._ **

_What?!_ He grimaces at the phone and rolls his eyes at the annoying threat. _Fine, whatever._ He types in his address before hopping inside the shower.

\---

 

_DING-DONG!_

He’s already finished with his quick shower, towel wrapped around his waist, a smaller towel over his head when he hears the doorbell ring. He grunts to himself, not expecting Kawanishi to arrive this soon. He looks at himself in the mirror--there are dark bags under his eyes, and his pale skin looks taut against his cheeks--overall, he looks like shit. But at least, he has showered.

_DING-DONG!_

_What the fuck?!_ He almost growls in annoyance. _Seriously, can’t that stupid Kawanishi wait?_

Since it will be just a quick drop-off of notes and the doorbell is _still ringing, for god’s sake,_ he forgoes getting into something decent--thinking it to be a bother. With heavy steps, he proceeds to the genkan to open the door of their apartment, scowling down at his foot, “Taichi, can’t you seriously just fucking wait?!”

 

His heart almost drops when after looking up, the brown eyes he expected are not there, and in its place are wide dark eyes--the blackest things he had ever seen.

“What--” He stares open-mouthed at Kageyama who is looking thoroughly embarrassed and trying to avert his gaze whenever their eyes meet. _The headache is real now._ Shirabu stops himself from just closing the door and crawling back into the bed because he certainly woke up at the wrong side of it--that or he is still dreaming.

“He wanted to talk to you.” Kawanishi starts to explain stepping into view. _If eyes could kill, that bastard would be drowning in his own pool of blood right now, Shirabu laughing maniacally at his carcass._

“Wanted to--” His eyes drift back to Kageyama who is looking down at the floor, his cheeks dusted with pink. He is wearing casual clothes, too, a white shirt with a black print in front that resembled a flock of ravens _(Seriously? What is this? Your school P.E. uniform?)_ , a green plaid jacket tied around his waist and some dark cotton pants. _Who would have thought the king of the court has some decent style?_

Wait… _Wait a minute!_

“I think it’s better if you put on some clothes first before you talk to him, though.” Of course, Kawanishi just had to point it out. He instinctively and pathetically covers himself with his hands and glares at his classmate and team mate, “Why the fuck did you bring him here? And why the fuck are you two even talking anyway?!”

Wakanishi doesn’t even flinch at his questions and if he isn’t half-naked right now, he swears, he would strangle the bastard right there and then. “He’s been bugging the rest of the team for the entire week that you’re gone.”

 _A week? Has it already been a week?_ He gapes at him.

“Anyway, I didn’t bring him here. He followed me halfway and well, I just sort of told him I’d take him, just so he’d stop walking like a stalker behind my back.” Wakanishi sighs and Kageyama had the decency to actually look sheepish, “I also thought that maybe he’d help you out of your depression or something. I don’t know.”

His frown deepens. _Depression? So the team actually knows? How?_ He hopes they think it’s about the defeat and not about anything else.

“Anyway, I really had to deliver some notes to you. So that part is true, at least.” He raises a paper bag filled with notebooks and hands it over to him. Kawanishi turns to Kageyama, “You know your way back, right? I’ll leave you in capable hands.”

“Oi, wait. What do you mean?!” Kawanishi is about to leave when Shirabu grabs his shoulder. The middle blocker gives him an uninterested look, “What?”

“Don’t just leave him here! Take him with you!”

“You two haven’t even talked!”

 

Shirabu turns to Kageyama, getting more annoyed because the flustered teen looks cuter by the minute. _What the fuck is wrong with him?!_ “Oi, what the hell do you want to talk about, anyway?”

Kageyama’s head snaps up to look at him, opens his mouth then closes them again, eyes drifting off to Kawanishi who sighs for the nth time that night, “See? Kid can’t talk with me here. So I better go.” He pulls himself away and Shirabu has no choice but to let him go. He nods at Kageyama, “Have fun, you two.”

“What the--What the hell are you talking about?!” He yells trying to grab Kawanishi again but the middle blocker easily sidesteps away from his outstretched hand and skips towards where the elevator is. He raises his hand goodbye, but not before telling Shirabu to: “Seriously, put some clothes on.”

Shirabu is huffing in anger as he looks on helplessly as his Kawanishi walks away. The headache is becoming a terrible migraine now and he rubs at his head again forgetting Kageyama is there with him and only when the latter clears his throat does he remember him standing in front of him.

He looks at him with exasperation and Kageyama bites on his lower lip again--automatically drawing Shirabu’s attention to those strawberry red lips. _Fuck._ He sighs frivolously before kicking the door open, standing beside it to let him in, “Get in.”

\---

 

He manages to get himself into a fresh white shirt and some sweat pants before strolling back to the living room where Kageyama is sitting on the sofa, quietly surveying the room, like a puppy. “I won’t offer you some tea because this will be brief.” He says slumping on the carpeted floor and rubbing furiously on his still wet hair.

Kageyama turns to him and nods, “Ah, yes. I’m sorry for intruding.” He shifts in his seat, the chair squeaking underneath him. Shirabu narrows his eyes, “Listen, I don’t know what you want from me. But if you or any of my teammates think that talking to the _genius setter_ of the team that just defeated us would bring up my mood, then you are really stupid.”

Kageyama blinks at him, “But... It’s not what I came here for.” There is an easy shyness in his face and Shirabu, _for the love of god,_ find it terribly, terribly amusing.

“Good.” He says, “Because I am not depressed over our loss. I got over that quickly so you can leave now and tell your--”

“I lied.” Kageyama nearly yells and Shirabu pauses to gape at him. _Wow, he’s as red as a tomato._ The setter awkwardly raises his eyes to look at him straight and it’s the most unnerving thing ever, “When I said it was a girl.”

“Huh?”

“My first kiss.” Kageyama explains and Shirabu doesn’t understand right away. “My first kiss, wasn’t with a girl like I told you.” Kageyama says again and something clicks in place and Shirabu suddenly knows what he’s talking about.

 

He laughs aloud--probably the first after so many days and it feels _damn_ good. “You really came here to tell me that?” Kageyama looks serious, despite the redness of his face and Shirabu just gawks at him, “Wait, you are serious?”

Shirabu thinks he knew what embarrassment looks like, but looking at Kageyama now, he realizes, _no, this is different._ He pities him a bit and thinks how harsh he was treating him when he hasn’t done anything to offend him _(well, apart from beating their team, but that’s a different story)._ The Karasuno setter’s face is a deep shade of red, his eyes glazed and his lips quivering in between his teeth.

His eyes zero in on those lips--they are as red as the first time he saw them. Kageyama’s tongue swipes over them again and they glisten against the fluorescent light. Shirabu finds himself doing the same as he tries to ignore the memory of how those lips taste like, how they feel like against his own: the softness, the warmth--and god forbid him because he wants to feel them again. Maybe just to confirm his memory is still good. _Yeah, keep telling yourself that._

He watches those lips form words but he isn’t listening now. _Something about confessing his love and being rejected?_ But then again, it could just be Shirabu thinking about himself so he ignores it and just keeps looking at those moving lips. Before he could stop himself, he’s already asking, “So, it’s a boy?”

Kageyama blinks at him, then mutters a soft _yes_ … and every other sound disappears when in two huge steps, Shirabu has already crossed the living room, pushed Kageyama against the sofa, claiming those strawberry lips. They’re as warm and as soft as before but the sweet taste of milk is gone and replaced by something minty. _Peppermint?_

“Mpff…” Kageyama gasps when he slots their mouths together, lips rubbing hungrily against each other. Shirabu closes his eyes, and thinks about nothing except those warm lips, wishing Kageyama would… even just a little bit… if he could just, open…

The lips beneath his own move suddenly, like it has a life of its own and the scent of peppermint makes him lightheaded as Kageyama opens his mouth, pink tongue darting out to swipe on his lips. His mouth automatically welcomes the probing tongue. He lets out a stifled gasp when Kageyama plunges his tongue deep into his mouth and uses the opportunity to pull him closer onto his lap.

Shirabu winces a bit when Kageyama’s belt buckle digs on his groin but the overwhelming taste of peppermint assaults his senses as their tongues dance around each other, curling, lashing and wrestling against each other--every movement making him feel more and more woozy.

 _He should be ashamed then. But right now, nothing matters_ _as the two of them suck on each other’s lips like their life depended on it._ Kageyama’s hands are settled on the small of his back while his hands are just uselessly hanging beside him. _But not for long_ , “Ahhh!” He gasps aloud, hands grabbing onto Kageyama’s head when the latter releases his lips only to latch on his adam’s apple and suck on the sensitive flesh.

Kageyama begins nipping at the skin on his neck, putting them in between his teeth and sucking. When Kageyama pulls Shirabu closer to his lap and their groins grind against each other for the first time, Shirabu feels something hard rub against his and he gasps aloud, eyes rolling back at the delicious friction. _They are both hard and it’s ridiculously, fucking sexy._

 

They grind their hips together, enjoying the heat and pressure their clothed bodies could offer--but it’s not enough. _He wants more skin. More of that annoyingly delicious sensation._ He pushes Kageyama away who doesn’t fight back, but doesn’t totally release him and just holds him on his shoulders. He sees the look of shock and panic in his eyes, but his face is as red as his swollen lips, his breath coming in short pants and Shirabu thinks that he… _he made that._ He made that look and a sort of lewd happiness blooms inside him.

_More. He wants more._

“Shirts, off. Now.” He commands, pulling his shirt off and discards them on the floor, Kageyama following his example. The boy isn’t ripped but he is lean and sexy _as fuck_. Shirabu greedily spreads his hands at the expanse of Kageyama’s milky white chest before he leans in for another desperate kiss.

One of Kageyama’s hand settles again at the small of his back, making sure he won’t run away-- _as if he would_ , while the other moves on his chest and finds a pebbled nipple, pinching on it ruthlessly. “Ngghh!” Shirabu hisses, releasing Kageyama’s lips and the younger boy just uses this chance to take said nipple into his warm mouth.

Shirabu’s world is collapsing instantaneously, and he arches his back, giving Kageyama more access to his flustered chest. He accidentally grinds their hips together and the heat begins building up right there below his belly, the evidence showing against his cotton sweatpants.

He moans when Kageyama not-so-gently nips on the nipple before releasing it to latch on the other. His hands grip on the taller boy’s shoulders, digging his nails onto skin, he’s sure he’s leaving marks-- _god, he hopes he does._ Not to be outdone, however, his hands travel down the expanse of Kageyama’s chest, brushing against the perked up nipples, licking his lips as he stares at every curve of his muscular chest and abdomen, wanting to trace them with his tongue--he would, probably, but not now. Because he knows what he wants and he’s going to get it.

He cups Kageyama’s erection against the fabric of his pants, squeezing it lightly and Kageyama releases his nipple with a loud groan and leans his head back against the sofa. Shirabu grins to himself, leaning forward so they are now skin to skin, the heat of the contact making his own erection hurt with need. His tongue darts out to lick at the raven-haired boy’s earlobe.

“Are you still a virgin?” He whispers. Kageyama freezes and, okay… that must be the worst possible thing to say right now-- _good job ruining the mood_ \--but he really needs to know. Having sex with a virgin is a little more difficult than usual.

The _yes_ he hears is soft and low and he feels the rumble in Kageyama’s chest when he speaks it. _Right, figures._ He chuckles, the sound unexpectedly more seductive than what he intends it to be, “Let’s go to my room, then.”

\---

 

The trip to his room shouldn’t have taken at least three minutes, but they are stopping in every step to grab and kiss each other that when they arrived in the room, both of them are already breathless and panting. Shirabu throws Kageyama on his bed, nearly toppling over him, if he didn’t pull away to remove his sweatpants. Kageyama willingly crawls up on the bed, eyes never leaving Shirabu, and the look he’s giving only made Shirabu hyper aware of what is happening.

Suddenly, he becomes too shy to continue and he stands there naked, shifting his weight on the balls of his feet, not sure how to continue.

“You’re so beautiful.” Kageyama breathes out the words and Shirabu looks up to find him staring with those big, black eyes filled with unadulterated wonder. Usually, he hates being called _beautiful_ \--many of his bullies back when he was a kid calls him that to mock his girly features, but this time, it only makes him flush. He isn’t sure if it’s the way Kageyama is looking admiringly at him, or the way he has said it… or maybe both, but whatever that is, it just made him feel like he’s melting in a puddle of cheesy embarrassment.

“S-Shut up.” He stammers and walks toward Kageyama who smiles shyly at him. He slowly crawls into the bed with him, but the Karasuno setter grabs his hips and holds him at arms-length. He frowns at him, extra aware that he is totally naked, embarrassingly aroused, and yet Kageyama is still just looking at him with those greedy black eyes.

“What the hell are you doing?” He demands.

“I just want to look at you more.” He says and there is no pretense on his words nor his eyes. Shirabu feels like his entire body is on fire and he wants to die in embarrassment with the way Kageyama is looking at him--but he also doesn’t want it to stop.

He puts a hand against his mouth and mutters, “Just, stop saying those embarrassing things.”

“Sorry.” Kageyama says and as if to make up to it, he pulls Shirabu in for a kiss until the smaller boy is now mounting on his stomach. Shirabu leans into the kiss, relishing the warmth and softness of Kageyama’s mouth as their tongues collided.

“Let’s take this off.” He says pulling on Kageyama’s belt, hastily unbuckling it. Kageyama unzips his pants and pulls it off with his briefs, kicking off the clothes in a heap on the floor. Shirabu lets his eyes wander to where and-- _wow._ He is not expecting this, but, yes, _the king of the court is definitely a king for some reason._

He licks his lips unconsciously as he blinks up at Kageyama who is still staring at him with those disgustingly lovesick puppy eyes. He hopes he stops that because it really is getting harder to concentrate on what he is supposed to be doing if he continues looking at him like that.

“Can I touch you?” Kageyama asks and _shit it is so cute he nearly wants to punch him._ Shirabu gives him a lopsided grin instead, “I’ll even let you fuck me.”

 _That’s all it took._ With a loud groan, Kageyama lunges forward and pushes him on the bed, the comforter and the sheets swallowing him immediately with the weight. Kageyama kisses him quickly before his mouth goes down to his neck, to his chest, down to his stomach, dipping his tongue into his navel before going further down to-- _Oh!_

 

Shirabu’s breath catches in his mouth when Kageyama’s mouth closes in on the head of his cock. He looks down only to be rewarded by the man’s half-lidded eyes, not even hiding the lust behind them. “I thought you said you’re a virgin…” He manages to croak out before Kageyama licks a straight line from the base up to the head.

Kageyama only hums in response, the vibrations sending ripples of sensation into his body as the taller boy continues sucking around him. The heat of Kageyama’s mouth is enough to send him into madness and he curls his toes, bites his lips to stop himself from screaming or from grabbing onto Kageyama’s hair.

 _A virgin, yes, probably._ Considering how he is out of sync and overall sloppy, but Shirabu is not one to complain especially because he can already see stars under his lids. “Ahh… Ahhh…” He moans, unable to articulate the pleasure building inside him, racking up his entire body until he is nothing but a shivering mess.

“Shit, Kageyama, I…” He is unable to hold it back longer and if Kageyama continues with this, he’d most definitely come in his mouth. He grabs on a handful of hair and tugs Kageyama away who releases his erection with a loud pop. He immediately misses the warmth of his mouth but he wants… _more of him._

“Fuck me.” He breathes out the word, watches Kageyama’s cock twitch at that before he turns around and reaches out inside bedside drawer. He rummages around its content before he finds a bottle of lube and a single packet of condom.

He throws it to Kageyama who catches it but blankly stares down at them like Shirabu just threw him the secrets to a perfect toss. Shirabu rolls his eyes, but more with fondness rather than exasperation and he pushes Kageyama onto the bed, taking the two into his hands, chuckling lightly, “Virgins.”

He uncaps the bottle of lube and squeezes a generous amount onto his hands, coating his fingers with it. He moves on top of Kageyama until he is straddling his hips, opening them wide enough so he could slide his fingers in between his thighs before pushing a single finger into his twitching hole.

Kageyama is watching him intently, eyes widening when he pushes a single finger inside him. He gasps and arches his back, Kageyama’s hands immediately circling his tiny waist to support him as he rubs himself. He absently licks and bites his lower lip as sweat trickled down his forehead when he inserts the second finger, scissoring them inside him.

He looks down and sees Kageyama’s cock, again and he knows he needs more than two fingers to prepare for _that._ “God…!” He hisses when he inserts the third finger and the feeling of getting filled made his knees shake.

“Shirabu-san… are you okay?”

 _Shirabu-san?_ His eyes, clouded with lust, flicker towards Kageyama, “Stop being so formal when I’m in front of you fucking myself with my own fingers.” He breathes out in a raspy voice, “Kenjiro… Call me, Ken--AH!” He moans aloud when his fingers hit his prostate. _God, it feels so good._

“K-Kenjiro.” Kageyama’s voice is apprehensive and meek-- _and seriously, terribly cute--_ but hearing his name on those red swollen lips, is enough.

 

He pulls out his fingers, moaning slightly at the sudden emptiness his fingers left before he throws the condom to Kageyama, “Wear it.” He commands before he grabbing the bottle of lube again, squeezing a dollop onto his palms, warming it in his hands. When he looks back up, Kageyama has already worn the condom, at least he knows how to put one on, otherwise Shirabu would have called this off _(although of course, who is he kidding? He would not call this off)._ He reaches out to touch the neglected erection, wrapping his hands around it.

Kageyama gasps at the contact and Shirabu watches his expression turn from the boy filled with wonder to the _man_ groaning and moaning in his hands as he pumps him slowly up and down, picking up his pace when those sinful sounds starts coming out of his lips.

When Kageyama’s already fully coated, he stops and aligns Kageyama’s throbbing erection to his twitching hole. His breath is coming out in quick, soft pants and his entire body is shaking from excitement but he leans down and gives Kageyama a quick peck before he lowers himself slowly down to Kageyama’s erection.

He is _big._ The stinging pain makes him pause mid-way. He takes a deep breath as he tries to stop the shuddering of his knees and focuses on relaxing his muscles to take all of him. He closes his eyes and takes another breath until he feels Kageyama’s warm, hands steadying his hips. He opens his eyes and comes face to face with Kageyama, looking straight into him.

The look in those eyes makes everything inside him ache with desire. He swallows hard and with the help of Kageyama’s guiding hands, eases himself onto it.

“It’s all the way in.” Kageyama whispers disbelievingly, taking his face onto his hands and kissing him deeply again. The feeling of being filled almost makes Shirabu come right there and then and he moans when he just as simply shifts on his lap.

He releases Kageyama’s lips and smiles at him, loving the glistening of his sweaty skin before he pushes himself up and slams himself down onto his cock. Kageyama groans aloud, head lolling back, eyes turning white. The sound is music to Shirabu’s ears and he closes his eyes and continues riding him, finding the perfect pace for the both of them.

Kageyama’s hands are digging painfully on the side of his hips, he is sure they’ll be bruised later but he doesn’t care. He knows there are a lot more of those on his neck and on his shoulder and he will take it all because that is what he wants. _That is what he needs._

... _Isn’t it?_

_I can’t._

The voice echoes in his mind and all he sees is dark olive.

He pushes himself up higher until he is almost empty again and slams back down, the angle perfectly hitting his prostate and he moans, throwing his head back. “K-Kenjiro… slow down.” The voice beside him is ragged yet earnest. He doesn’t know who it belongs to but it oddly resembles the one who calls for a toss every time they are in court.

_I like you._

_I can’t._

Someone bites onto his neck and he makes a choking sound as he grabs onto _dark brown hair._ _Wait… is it dark brown?_ _Or…? Of course, it is dark brown. And the eyes are olive… always olive._

 _Fuck._ He is close now. He can feel the familiar tingling in his body, all pooling to the area just below his stomach. His body feels like it’s on fire and the muscles on his legs is screaming at him with the motion. But he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop moving up and down until his moans become louder, his breath raspier and all he sees is the beautiful color of olive.

\---

Shirabu wakes up with an arm snaking around his waist and he instinctively shies away from it, sitting down on the corner of the bed.

Kageyama blinks up at him from the bed, confused at his reaction before the realization behind his reaction dawns on him like a heavy blanket and he looks down on his hands. Brown gray eyes meet dark ones and the two pairs showing extremely different emotions--one still holds that childish wonder, like a kid who was just given a puppy--but without that giddy happiness it entails. The other pair, however, looks lost and guilt-filled.

“Sorry about that.” Shirabu says, avoiding those questioning eyes, “I just…” _got carried away? But by what?_ He isn’t drunk. He is totally sober and aside from the migraine which has disappeared and having a comeback just about now, he doesn’t have any excuse, at all. _Except that he’s a completely shitty person, that is._

“Your first kiss.” Kageyama says from somewhere in his bed, “Who was it?”

Shirabu doesn’t understand why Kageyama thinks it’s important to ask but he answers it anyway, “Just a random boy back in middle school.”

Kageyama hums in response, “Your _first time?_ ”

Shirabu doesn’t even pretend to not understand him, “Same boy.” _Hatori Ueda_. He met him in seventh grade, he was nice and he had a bright smile. He was tall, bulky--the exact opposite of Shirabu and one night when their school went on a camping trip, he kissed him. A week after, he lost his virginity with the same boy. He has long forgotten about him, and if Kageyama didn’t bring him up, he won’t even cross his mind. _Now he can’t help but think about the chestnut-haired boy._

“Did you love him?” Kageyama asks and Shirabu doesn’t know what to think about his question because one, he didn’t expect the _king of the court_ to be this sentimental to believe in true love and; second, he hasn’t really considered it before.

He sighs, “Why are you asking these questions?”

“I just… I just thought that you have to at least _like_ a person to be able to uh... do these things.”

 _That’s it._ Shirabu grins to himself. _So naive. So innocent. And he’s just what? A year younger?_ “It doesn’t always work that way.”

 

“Why not?”

“So you would kiss anybody?”

Shirabu chuckles bitterly, “As long as they’re cute and willing.”

Kageyama takes a while to respond, “That’s… A bit self destructive, don’t you think?”

 _Right. Like he needs him to point that out. He’s perfectly aware of that, thank you._ Shirabu sighs and shifts in his position, then in a quiet voice, he says, “You should probably leave.”

It takes a few silent moments for Kageyama to understand that he wants to be alone before he moves to clean up the mess. He grabs his clothes and asks if he could use his bathroom. Shirabu nods, pointing him the way.

The moment the door closed behind Kageyama, Shirabu closes his eyes and pulls his legs to his chest so he can hug his knees. He vaguely recalls his mother scolding him when he does this back when he was a kid. She keeps on telling him it would make his posture bad. He believed it then until he realized she had been lying. Still, that lie helped him grow out of it.

 _But he still does it sometimes. Especially when he feels like a terrible human being and the need to decrease his existence becomes too powerful._ He puts his head on his folded knees and breathes in deeply, hoping he would stop pitying himself, but a mere action like that doesn’t stop the pain wracking his entire body.

 _You need to at least like a person to do these things?_ He snorts at the bitter taste in his mouth. _How perfectly naive_. He wants to tell him that sometimes people you like don’t like you back and no matter how much it sucks, you just have to swallow up that glaring truth and live with what you have. Live for the stolen moments and kept up memories you shared with that person. Because that is all you will have.

_And the sad part is, if he’s given a choice… he’d probably do it all over again._

It starts as soft whimpers then transforms into full-blown sobs in only a matter of minutes. Whenever he closes his eyes all he sees are those dark olive eyes staring back at him, pulling him apart piece by piece… and the funny thing is, he’s okay with all of those, if it meant that he’ll be able to stay with him for one more match--one more day. _Please, just one more time._

He almost jumps out of bed when his phone vibrates to an incoming call. He almost chooses to ignore it but when he sees the name that popped out on the screen. His heart just drops on the floor and rolls out the door as he looks at the name on the caller ID. With shaky hands, he gingerly picks up the phone.

“Shirabu.” Ushijima’s deep voice sounds like heaven and his heart aches at the yearning to hear it once more.

“U-Ushijima-san.” He responds, hating himself for stuttering for even just calling his name.

 

He hears his captain clear his throat and he realizes how awkward he must be feeling right now. But he waits in silence, holding his breath. Telling his heart to expect nothing and reminding himself about the sting of rejection still fresh and painful.

And yet despite that, Shirabu waits for him. _Always. Always._

“Come back to practice soon.”

_Great. Here we go again._

 

**+++**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let us send our love to our poor baby, Shirabu. I am sorry. It will get better soon, love. :(
> 
> I am not good in making fanfictions because I love creating my own characters. You can check out my original work titled Tsumetai Sakkaku. :) Anyway, thanks for reading! <3
> 
> Love,
> 
> DC


End file.
